


This Is How We Happen

by Starksus



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Tony Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 16:34:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11256720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starksus/pseuds/Starksus
Summary: "Tony is missing."Steve hears the words over Natasha and Clint's bickering, over Sam's snorts, over the erratic beat of his heart.





	This Is How We Happen

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta reader Punkie who had all A's in her English classes and is fluent in English but is in no way certified to professionally edit.
> 
> And to Gem for being my Angst soulmate, and making sure this was coherent enough.

It starts with Bucky being found and with Tony getting lost.

This is how the world sees The Avengers: they rise, they fall, they disappear, and then they rise back again.

And this is what happens to Tony Stark: he falls, he falls, and he falls.

Rhodes sounds frantic in a way that Steve has never heard before when he picks up the call.

"Tony is missing."

He hears the words over Natasha and Clint's bickering, over Sam's snorts, over the erratic beat of his heart.

"I don't know where he went," Rhodes continues while Steve leaves the room. "I can't find him, no one can. _Steve_ -"

The outside of the small apartment is cold. Steve is barefoot and the bitter taste of fear is so strong in his tongue that it makes it nearly impossible to talk.

"Did you see it?" Rhodes asks, voice trembling, starting to lose control. "Did you see him?"

Steve opens his mouth. Closes his eyes. He hesitates.

He remembers not many hours earlier, sitting on the couch with the team - what is left of it - all eyes glued to the TV, the heavy silence when Tony appeared on screen.

He remembers the questions: sharp, vicious, and cruel.

Remembers Tony: tired, alone, and drunk.

They disappeared and the world forgave them. Tony stayed and the world took it all on him.

"Once a drunk, always a drunk," Clint had snorted at the end. When the state of Tony had gotten too much, too obvious. Tony with his bloodshot eyes broke right in front of them, in front of the media, in front of people who only wanted a piece of him to chew and then spit back up.

" _Shut up,_ " Steve had said too fast to think about it properly and the whole team had turned to stare. He felt raw under their gazes. Felt the need to say more but also wished he hadn't said anything at all.

He didn’t need to turn around to know Clint was looking at him with that, _what the hell man_ , expression all over his face.

All the times he kept silent, let it all continue until it went too far and now nor two words or all the words in the world could be enough to reverse the damage he started.

"I saw." Steve finally replies.

"Then help me find him," Rhodes voice is firm, authoritative. Would be the voice of a Colonel if it didn't have that pleading edge to it. As if he was scared Steve would dare to say no. "He won't answer my calls, or Pepper’s but- but _God help me,_ he would answer to you."

Steve bites his tongue and wishes, for a split second, it wouldn't heal as fast just so he could taste the blood.

"I'm afraid," Rhodes chokes out and this isn't the Colonel he's speaking to. It's a best friend who is desperate, a man afraid to lose someone he holds dear. And Steve, Steve gets it, he gets that desperation. He's felt it before, he's feeling it now. "He's been drinking so much. I- I don't know what he will do. I should hav-"

"I'll find him." Steve says. Promises.

Rhodes breathes heavily on the line then hangs up.

The line goes dead.

The phone crumbles under his hand. He is supposed to be Captain America: rational, honorable, and brave. But he dropped that part of him along with his shield in Siberia, left to freeze.

When he goes back into the apartment, he takes his things and leaves without a word. He does this as Steve Rogers: irrational, reckless, can't breathe.

Steve sits on his bike, flips his second phone open - the one that only one person has the number of, the one that has never rung- and dials the only number saved.

He can picture Tony's phone, sleek and sophisticated, this new century packed in a tiny screen and then there’s the phone Steve sent him, old fashioned and generic. And why would he, why would Tony Stark carry that with him. Why did Steve even expect-

The line connects, the click ringing in the silence that follows as Tony picks up. Blood rushes to his ears and panic settles on his chest.

Tony doesn't speak at the end of the other line. All that can be heard is his heavy breathing.

"Tony," Steve says. It somehow comes out as a command.

The seconds go by without an answer, so he says his name again. This time it sounds like a plea.

“Did you see?” Tony asks, voice slurred followed by a dry chuckle, “Of course you did, but did you laugh? Did you laugh at me for being weak, Steve?”

Steve takes a second to concentrate on Tony’s voice only, his chest tightens with emotion. He recalls all the times he wished to hear it directed at him, how much he wondered if he ever would, and then he lets the words sink in.

He wants to say: _‘No, I didn’t laugh, I would never laugh at you.’_   He wants to scream: _‘You are one of the strongest men I have ever known.’_   He wants to beg: _‘Please, let me find you.’_

“You’re drunk,” he accuses instead. Steve curses himself, thinks Tony is going to hang up on him but instead he hears:

“You weren’t here to stop me.”

Steve sucks in the cold air and exhales it slowly through his nose. He tries to think logically, to remember that Tony should know better at this point, tells himself that it’s anger bubbling in his chest instead of guilt. “That’s not how it works, Tony.”

He digs his short nails into his palm, as if trying to desperately hold onto his control, and he can feel his pulse quickening at the same time that his temper begins to rise.

He shouldn’t let himself be driven by his emotions when there is an objective to accomplish, but this is _Tony_ and somehow since he met the man he became the focal point of Steve’s existence.

“Tony, _where_ are you?” Steve sounds angry because he is, he is angry at himself for not having asked sooner, for falling so easily down the rabbit hole that is Tony Stark.

The breathing at the end of the other line becomes harsh and fast like Tony can’t get enough air. He tries to hear past that, to focus on the background noises to get an idea of Tony’s whereabouts.

“Ste _ve,_ ” Tony sobs his name. The sound enters through his ear, travels down his veins, and crushes his heart. “It’s gone. I came here and I – I forgot. It’s gone, Steve.”

“What is gone? Where are you?” He tries to push the desperation asidebut it’s useless, his senses are overloaded and the air isn’t reaching his lungs “Tony, _please._ ”

Tony sobs harder. “I’m home.”

The line goes dead.

Steve groans in frustration and starts the bike, driving out of the obscured parking lot with no clear direction in mind.

***

Steve calls Tony again from a shabby gas station. The night has become darker, the streets looking isolated. He can’t tell how much time has passed, yet he feels as if he’s running out of time.

Tony doesn’t pick up, which doesn’t exactly surprise him, but instead infuriates him. There is this irrational voice at the back of his head, one fed by worry and anger, and all the emotions that should never been linked to a sole person telling him that this is Tony’s revenge.

He is going to find him, he is going to find Tony if only to ask him how could he be so _selfish_ to run himself to ruins, if only to break Steve.

Because it’s easier to be angry than it is to admit how absolutely scared he is.

With the phone secured inside his pocket, Steve makes his way to a small car parked under a broken streetlamp. Without having second thoughts or room for guilt, he focuses on making the car start. It doesn’t take long, it’s an ability that he has used more than twice, more times than he’s proud to share.

He curls his finger slowly over the steering wheel. His tongue is dry, his bottom lip is trembling, and his palms are damp.

 _“Home_ ,” Tony had said.

When Steve had first woken up, he was assigned an apartment to sleep and rest in. An apartment to paint and eat in. He thinks about it, about how it was never truly his. He recalls the prickling sensation, the nagging at the back of his neck whenever he was in it.

That apartment was never his home. How could it be when it was basically an observation room?

Tony works, eats, sleeps, and then works some more in the Tower. But it doesn’t feel right. Just like SHIELD’s apartment, Steve feels like the tower was never Tony’s home.

He thinks about the offer Tony made him once, his own floor at the tower. He wonders if he wouldn’t have been so caught up in his past, so blinded by his pride if maybe that could have become a home for the two of them.

Steve starts the car and drives in the direction of the coast.

He doesn’t know if he’s right, but he does know that he doesn’t have the time to think of the consequences if he’s wrong.

Leaving the secure, small town behind, he calls Tony one, two, ten times. The phone rings and rings and rings up until Steve’s heart starts beating in sync with it.

It’s a three hour drive, Steve is confident he can make it in two. Maybe less. There are dark towering mountains to his side that almost seem to be getting higher and higher as he keeps driving faster and faster, and the phone keeps ringing and ringing.

Steve thinks: _‘If I lose you, where will I belong.’_ He thinks: _‘If I find you, what will we become.’_

It's the darkest before dawn, and Steve's been driving for a while, concentrating on the white of the lane lines as they burn in the glare of his headlights before being swallowed beneath the car. It's numbing, and it's his intense focus that allows him to hold the car still when he jumps as the phone begins to ring. The sound is foreign, more so in the dark and silent night; Steve had only heard the tone once, when he set it up, and it'd been silent ever since - until now. He picks it up before the third ring.

He hears his name being called but it’s barely a whisper drowned out by the sound of crashing waves and the breeze.

“Just tell me _where the hell_ you are,” he is shaking and his blood is boiling. Steve welcomes the warmth of his temper rising, chasing the cold of the night and his fear away.

Tony hangs up without answer.

Steve slams the phone against the dashboard, so hard that it causes the device to shatter. Broken pieces of it pierce his skin. Not that it matters much now because he thinks he might be right after all. The only thing that matters is whether he’ll make it on time.

He is so close to Malibu and he is driving so fast that it registers in his mind that he might crash the car for Tony Stark. He doesn’t have the willpower to slow down.

Steve can hear the beach; the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. He can smell the salt of the ocean, and he counts on the waves to take him to Tony. He accelerates even more, so much time has passed that he’s started to lose his mind. Steve has learned a lot about self-destruction, Tony taught it to him every day.

The sun is starting to rise. In another time, not too long perhaps, he would be parking in one of Malibu’s most expensive houses, not to mention the most sophisticated and beautiful.

At the current time, he is parking between ruins of destruction, the result of a battle field. There is nothing beautiful about war.

Here is what Steve wishes had happened:

He gets out of the car, fear still on his tongue but confidence still present in his walk. He spots Tony easily, a tiny figure facing the ocean, he approaches him immediately not waiting to miss time.

Tony hears him getting closer so he turns to face him, he looks tired, purple bags under his eyes, and lines that shouldn’t be on his face yet. But despite all that, those same tired eyes have a spark in them, a spark that screams: ‘I’m alive, I’m Tony Stark, I’m Iron Man.’ It makes Steve breathe easier, feels relief wash all over him.

Steve looks ahead, sees a new day beginning and decides that he needs to begin something himself. “Let’s go home,” he says, and Tony looks up and locks eyes with him, and without needing to say it, Tony understands that Steve means to start a home with him, to repair their broken team until it becomes the family they all need.

Tony stands up and cracks a smart joke, Steve quirks a corner of his mouth up, and makes small talk on their way to the car.

That would be the beginning of their new life.

 

And this is how it happens:

He gets out of the car, fear still on his tongue but confidence still present in his walk. He can’t see Tony anywhere.

Steve feels as if the floor is collapsing under him. The coast, the car, the skeleton of the house they all start spinning. _‘Don’t make me lose my world again, let me find you, let me find you, let me find you.’_

With his sanity almost out of his grasp he notices a tiny lone figure just by the border of the abysm. Tony is curled over himself, knees pressed to his chest, his face hidden between them, shuddering visibly even from where Steve stands.

Describe Tony Stark: Big man in a suit of armor. Not a hero.

Describe Tony Stark: Smart, selfless, cold.

Describe Tony Stark: A hero, a friend, something more. Maybe.

But to describe the Tony Stark that was right in front of Steve’s eyes: small, shaking, sweaty. Shoes missing, toes curling, cuts on his feet as if he had run and run and run until he had eventually collapsed.

“Tony,” Steve calls when he finds his voice. Lost it as soon as he saw the man who always looked larger than life, reduced to the shivering mess in front of him. “Hey, it’s me.”

Tony’s head starts lifting from where it was trapped between his legs. It’s slow. It’s painful. It’s an eternity until their eyes finally meet.

There is no spark in them. There is barely life.

Something cracks in Steve, an irreversible pain. Like his ribs are snapping and piercing his heart.

Tony moves to sit down properly, disturbing the dirt that had settled around him. He blinks slowly, eyelids heavy and eyes glassy, having obvious difficulties to focus on Steve. When he finally clears his vision, the corner of his mouth turns down and he stands up with a strength he is not supposed to have left.

“You are not here,” he spits, shaking his head, his hands shaking on their own.

“I am,” Steve assures, standing as well.

He breathes in. Breathes out. Drinks in the sight of Tony being in front of him. Takes a step forward and Tony immediately takes a stumbling step back, keeping the distance clear between them.

Steve is pleading: ‘ _Please, let me hold you.’_   Tony is screaming at him: _‘I won’t show you my cracks.’_

“Just leave,” Tony finally says after the silence has filled the space between them.

“I won’t leave you.” It’s a vow. No, a promise. A promise that Tony obviously doesn’t believe if the affronted look that he shoots Steve afterwards is anything to go by. It should be expected. It shouldn’t hurt so much.

One, two, three quick steps and he finds himself right in front of Tony. Close enough to touch him if he dares.

“I won’t leave you,” he repeats, softly and clear like the breeze cooling the back of his neck.

He reaches for Tony’s hand and finds hot, sweaty skin and as if Steve’s contact transmitted a bolt of electricity into Tony, the rest of him starts to shake as well, knees finally collapsing probably in exhaustion.

Steve is quick to catch him and support his weight, maneuvering Tony’s body to carry him bridal style.

“Let’s go h-“ he cuts himself off. The word _‘home’_   gets stuck in his throat, he swallows and starts walking in the direction of the car. The action of taking Tony there safely turning out to be more difficult than it should be.

Tony keeps turning and squirming in Steve’s arms. It’s like he’s looking to free himself, but almost as if he wants Steve to struggle. Like he wants Steve to drop him. To prove himself right that Steve will only wrong him again.

It’s childish and vengeful, and all around the result of a Tony that has been so hurt that he just wants the disappointment to come so he can deal with it quickly.

Steve keeps his hold strong, solid and careful. He wants to tell Tony to stop. Tell him he won’t drop the most precious thing he has ever held.

Eventually Tony stops moving, the last of his strength apparently leaving his body, all his limb go slack and his hot forehead come to rest on Steve’s neck.

They reach the car. Steve opens the backdoor and proceeds to lower Tony carefully onto the seat. He’s moving back out when Tony grabs at the hem of his shirt in a weak attempt.

“ _Steve._ ”

Tony’s mouth is open, lips shaped and slightly blue, his eyes are dark and wide, the hint of a spark back in them. The first few buttons of his dress shirt are missing and his scars are noticeable, chest shining with a thin sheen of sweat.

He closes his eyes hard and opens them to find Tony moving closer to him, a question in his eyes that he shouldn’t be allowed to ask in a moment like this.

A question that Steve shouldn’t be so desperate to give an affirmative answer to.

It’s not that Steve doesn’t want him, it’s that Steve wants him too much. And he shouldn’t want him like this, with their souls sipping through the cracks they have ripped in each other skins, but Steve had never learned control when Tony was involved.

Maybe in another universe Steve Rogers says no. Maybe in another universe they never burn the other this much, be it with desire or words or wounds.

Tony’s tongue is hot in his, the faint taste of alcohol present on it. Steve licks, licks, and licks until it disappears for good. He does this until there is nothing but the intoxicating taste of Tony invading his senses.

Steve thinks this is how he is supposed to die. This is how he should die, exhaling his last breath into Tony’s mouth, his lungs collapsing while he can feel Tony’s expanding underneath his hands.

Tony bites his lips hard, demanding, drawing a bit of blood. Like all the important parts of their story, this one is also written in red.

Steve is the first to get rid of his shirt, sweat starting to break out onto his skin. Somewhat coherent enough, he manages to switch positions with Tony so the older man ends up sitting on his lap.

His fingers wander underneath Tony’s shirt, barely touching the golden skin, his eyes filling with devotion as they discover every inch of the man above him.

“I-“ Tony starts but he is interrupted by his own moan breaking free when Steve’s fingers brush his nipples.

 _‘I will never touch anything better than you,’_ Steve thinks.

Tony moves forward searching for Steve’s mouth, their bodies pressing together. Branding the other’s skin with their fire.

He unbuckles Tony’s pants with clumsy, desperate hands. Tony’s head drops in the curvature of his neck, his lips softly brushing against his pulse point, soft gasps escaping them.

He moves his hands to Tony’s ass, squeezing it hard, their moans mix and their movements coordinate and Steve feels like he might explode with the force of everything he is feeling. The rhythm of their movements quickens and the gasps and moans increase, getting louder.

 _‘You are everything to me,’_ he kisses the top of Tony’s head, rocking harder against Tony’s body. ‘ _I can’t live without you.’_

 _“_ I love you, _”_ he confesses aloud.

Tony mumbles something into his neck that he can’t make out.

“ _I love you,_ ” Steve repeats desperately and needy.

Tony gasps loudly. “Lie to me again.”

Tony’s body trembles with the force of his orgasm before he collapses on top of Steve. Steve who is completely frozen in the spot, his body suddenly cold.

“Tony,” his voice breaks, reflecting exactly how he feels.

_I love you. Lie to me again. I love you. Lie to me again. I love you. Lie to me ag-_

Tony silences him by nipping the soft spot underneath his jaw. His hand sneaks inside Steve’s pants and closes around his dick.

“Tony,” his voice is pained but he makes no move to stop him, his body becoming hot again with Tony’s touch.

 _‘I love you’_ he wants to say again, but as if sensing it, Tony covers his mouth with his. He kisses him slowly, sweetly, almost tastes like ‘ _I love you too’_ and that is what pushes Steve over the edge.

They are left breathing heavily into each other’s mouths. The air one releases becoming the air the other inhales.

Steve’s head is hazy, light, like it might float away from his body. He has so much to say, to explain, to beg to be believed.

But Tony sits quicker than Steve’s brain works. He has his black hair plastered against his sweaty forehead, falling just above his eyes. His eyes that are looking sharply at Steve. Brown. Powerful. Alive. _Tony Stark_.

Tony raises his hand like he is going to touch Steve’s skin but the contact never happens. Tony grabs his shirt, Steve stares at him. He puts it on, Steve’s vision gets blurry. Tony gets out of the car, a tear falls from Steve’s eye.

 _‘It’s not fair_ ,’ Steve thinks while Tony goes to sit in the passenger seat without a word, leaving Steve covered in sweat, cum, and tears. ‘ _It’s not fair that one man can cause all three.’_

One minute. Ten seconds. Two hours. Steve doesn’t know how long it takes him to regain his senses, clean himself as much as he can, and get dressed. He slips silently into the driver’s seat, looks at Tony out of the corner of his eye, his head rested against the cold window, eyes closed and skin flushed. In a thin voice he hears him say:

“We will forget about this.”

Steve starts the car, ‘ _Lie to me again.’_ He doesn’t dare say it aloud.

***

Hours later, Steve delivers a sleeping Tony Stark to the house of the Colonel Rhodes. The Colonel takes his friend and Tony looks so small, worn down, and pale except for the purple under his eyes.

Steve looks away from Tony’s figure. Rhodes swallows visibly.

“You found him.”

“I promised,” Steve says.

It ends with Tony being found and Steve losing himself.

**Author's Note:**

> I live for feedback. Find me on Twitter as Sttarksus.


End file.
